


Three Soldiers and a Little Lady

by Fyre



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Childbirth, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, there was a super-soldier who fell in love with a secret agent during the Cold War. When the supersoldier's best friend - abducted and brainwashed as a Soviet assassin - returned to the fold, they ended up in a peculiar little family.</p><p>Technically, a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1572455/chapters/3337856">Burning With a Deadly Heat</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Soldiers and a Little Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, a sequel to [Burning With a Deadly Heat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1572455/chapters/3337856), this fic will be a series of events from young Jamie Rogers' life. There is not likely to be much plot to speak of. Just lots of Steve and Peggy and Bucky with a small child.

They wouldn't let Steve into the delivery room, and he wasn't happy about it.

Peggy had been in labour for hours, and there was no sign of anything happening.

"You shoulda worn the uniform," Bucky said, watching him pace back and forward. "I know you don't like to show off the whole Cap thing, but they wouldn't say no to Captain America."

"If I wore the uniform," Steve retorted, "everyone would pay attention to me instead of Peggy."

Bucky had one foot on the edge of the chair, his good arm propped on his upraised knee. "But you'd be in there with her," he said. He was silent for a moment, then carefully offered, "I scoped the perimeter a few days ago. It's secure. There isn't any external danger."

Steve gave him a look that was both grateful and sad. "Thanks, Buck," he said. "You didn't need to do that."

Bucky shrugged. It wasn't a question of need or even a question of want. He had to protect them, and protecting them meant ensuring they were in places that they couldn't be threatened. Peggy's delivery room was high enough in the building that only an elite command unit could breach it from the roof, and - unknown to Steve - he had posted Morita up there to make sure that didn't happen.

They'd taken down a lot of their enemies, he knew, but there were still people out there who would want to hurt them.

Steve kept right on pacing.

Bucky could remember a time when they'd gone to see a circus and the circus had a lion in one of the caged wagons. It was scrawny and not exactly the King of the Jungle that the sign proclaimed, but it paced back and forward, snarling, and Bucky knew for a fact it coulda taken his head off with one bite.

That was what Steve looked like right now.

A cry echoed down the hall, short and bitten off, and he was on his feet too.

"I'm going in there," Steve said, storming towards the doors.

Bucky didn't even bother trying to stop him. He just caught up with him, walking at his side, and when people tried to get in Steve's way, he gently picked them up and set them to one side. Trying to stop Steve Rogers was like trying to stop a landslide, and the last thing they needed was people getting in the way.

The midwife made a brave attempt to keep the door shut, but Steve was an irresistible force, pushing her and the door aside.

"Steve?" Peggy sounded breathless. She was flushed, her face shining with sweat, her dark curls clinging to her cheeks. Her nightgown was pushed up over her knees and Bucky was suddenly and acutely aware of how much of her was uncovered. He hesitated at the doorway as Steve crossed the room, taking up a position at the head of the bed.

"I'm here, Peggy," Steve said, slipping his arm behind her shoulders, and catching her hand with his other hand.

"About bloody time," she replied, leaning into him. She glanced over at the door. "Oh, don't just stand there like a goose, James. Shut the door, would you?"

He obeyed automatically, putting his back to the door and folding his arms.

"This isn't regular!" The midwife exclaimed, looking to the nurse for support.

Peggy pushed herself up on one elbow. "If you wish to attempt to force my husband out of the room, I can tell you now it would be a losing battle," she said. "He stays. As does our bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" Steve said with a snort. 

Peggy shot a smile over at Bucky, though it was strained. "If you don't mind?"

Bucky shrugged. "At least neither of you can get in trouble in here," he said, keeping his eyes on her face. 

She tensed up again, and the midwife moved back to work. From the pain on Peggy's face, she had every right to be screaming the place down, but she didn't. Her teeth were clenched and Bucky could see the way her hand tightened on Steve's, his skin paling under her touch.

Bucky pressed his shoulders back against the wall beside the door. 

It felt wrong to stand by while she was in pain. His primary objective was to prevent Steve, and her, from being hurt. It was... difficult just to stand there, when there was nothing he could do to help them. He didn't realise, but he must have been knocking his shoulders back against the wall, because Steve was suddenly looking at him.

"Buck," he said, his voice soft, "get over here. "Peggy's got two hands."

Bucky looked at her warily. "I shouldn't."

"Oh, for the love of god," Peggy groaned, pressing her head back against the pillow. "If it's a choice of you beating yourself into a wall or seeing me in the altogether, I'd rather you didn't hurt yourself."

He wanted to say they were exaggerating, but when he stepped forward from the wall, plaster clung to his shoulders. He averted his eyes, stepping around the midwife, to get to Peggy's other side. She pulled her hand away from the rail of the bed and clutched his. Her palm was hot and wet, and he braced his metal hand against the edge of the bed, looking over at Steve.

Sometimes, Bucky wished he could draw, just to capture the look on Steve's face as he bent down and pressed his lips to Peggy's forehead. She closed her eyes, her features tensing, as her hands closed around each of theirs, her knuckles bone-white.

"Jesus Christ!" Bucky yelped. It was only a little exaggerated, and he heard the tight huff of Peggy's laughter.

"Man up, Barnes," she panted. 

"I didn't sign up for broken fingers!" he protested, earning a chuckle from Steve.

"Why'd'you think I asked you to get over there?" he said. "I'm not going to be the only one suffering here."

Between them, Peggy seemed torn between groaning and laughing. "When we're quite finished here," she declared, her voice ragged, "I'm taking a hammer to your bollocks, Steve." She folded over, keening between clenched teeth, her grip tightening. When she sagged back, panting again, she glowered at him. "I'll give you bloody suffering!"

He gave her his sunniest smile. "Just keep breathing."

It didn't take much longer, and Bucky kept his eyes on Steve and Peggy's faces. It was bad seeing her hurting, but feeling her hand around his helped, knowing he was supporting her and being useful, even if he couldn't stop the pain.

She gave a small, unsteady cry and the midwife and nurse were moving rapidly. Peggy's cry was echoed by a sputtering reedy wail.

Bucky felt like his heart had stopped in his chest. He looked from Peggy's face to Steve, and saw the stunned, dazed light in his eyes. 

"You have a healthy baby girl, Mrs Rogers," the midwife declared, leaning over the bed. Bucky's eyes were drawn down as if by gravity to the tiny, bloody pink creature that the woman had laid on Peggy's chest. It was so small, so fragile, so helpless, and his heart was beating hard against his chest. It - she - had to be protected at all costs.

Peggy drew her hand from Bucky's, trembling, to touch the wrinkled back. "Look, Steve," she whispered. "We made a little girl."

Bucky retreated back from the bedside, giving them room. His mind was whirling. There were so many logistics to take into consideration: accommodation, temperature, climate, sustenance. He watched blankly as the medical staff cleaned and measured and clipped and wrapped the baby, as if she wasn't fragile and small and so easily-broken.

He didn't realise how far he had ventured, until the wall was at his back again. He stayed there, pinned and panicking, his heart pounding.

"Buck," Steve was the one to call him back to himself. 

He looked up, warily. Steve and Peggy were both looking to him. "Yeah?" he said, a little hoarsely.

"You should come over and meet your goddaughter," Peggy said. She looked exhausted, but happy as he'd ever seen her, a blanket-wrapped bundle tucked up in her arms. The nurse and midwife had vanished. He didn't even notice when. God, how the hell was he meant to protect such a tiny little thing if he couldn't even keep eyes on the medical staff?

He felt like he was walking stiff-legged as he made his way back across the room, and he knew Steve could tell he was terrified. Steve came around the bed to Bucky's side, putting his arm around Bucky's shoulder.

"You okay?"

Bucky nodded tightly, forcing himself to look down at the face of the little thing that had already earned his protection just by existing. She didn't look like much, a small, squished face, with wrinkled pink cheeks, and fine dark hair. Her eyes were open and dark blue, and she was frowning.

"She looks like Phillips," he said, his voice hoarse.

Peggy liberated one arm from beneath the baby and smacked Bucky on the chest. "That's our daughter you're talking about."

Bucky hesitated, then put out his hand, drawing the blanket down just a little from her face. "She got a name?"

"Sarah," Steve replied. "Sarah James Rogers."

Bucky lifted his eyes to Steve's face. He wanted to call him a sentimental jerk, but the words wouldn't come and his throat felt tight. 

Steve smiled quietly at him. "You want to hold her?"

"You haven't even held her yet," Bucky protested.

Steve leaned over the bed and - so carefully, lifted the little bundle up in his arms. He'd always been good with small kids, even back in the day. He held her carefully, looking down at her, with a stupid soft look on his dumb face.

"Hey, Sarah James," he said softly, his daughter's whole tiny body barely even half the length of his forearm. "I want you to meet someone real important." He turned to Bucky, tilting the baby's face up towards him. "This is your uncle Bucky."

Bucky wondered if it would be stupid for someone who had fought his way across Europe to run away from the small bundle in his friend's arms. 

Then it was too late and Steve was laying her in Bucky's flesh-and-blood arm. She weighed less than a rifle, and the whole parcel of baby and blanket nestled neatly in the crook of his arm, soft and warm and fragile.

He brought up his other hand instinctively, to stabilise himself, then wrenched it back. It was too big, too deadly, to be near something so precious.

"Easy," Steve said, his hand at Bucky's shoulder. "It's okay."

Bucky nodded unsteadily. It said everything about Steve's trust in him that he would let him hold her. He looked down at the wrinkled little face, then cautiously smoothed the blanket with the tips of his metal fingers.

"I'm going to call you James," he confided to the baby. "Just like me, and you're going to be the prettiest James ever." He looked guardedly at Peggy, wondering if she would argue. 

She was watching him with a small smile. “Perhaps Jamie,” she murmured. “Slightly less confusing for her.” She reached out, touching her daughter’s head lightly. “Jamie Rogers.”


End file.
